Face In the Mirror
by PhantomDaae1981
Summary: This very short story focuses on the character Spencer Reid from the television show Criminal Minds. The primary focus is his drug addiction. There is also a slash reference to Reid/Hotchner, along with brief references to Reid/JJ, Reid/Lila, Reid/Gideon.


"_**Face In the Mirror," **__by PhantomDaae1981_

**Author's Note: **This very short story focuses on the character Spencer Reid from the television show _Criminal Minds. _The primary focus is his drug addiction. There is also a slash reference to Reid/Hotchner, along with brief references to Reid/JJ, Reid/Lila, and Reid/Gideon.

* * *

_I no longer recognize myself when I look in the mirror._

_The face is unfamiliar, completely foreign._

_I don't see myself at all. Instead, I see Tobias. I see his confusion, his addiction, his warped sense of addled superiority._

_No, this isn't me._

_This isn't me in the mirror._

* * *

Spencer Reid used to be Somebody Different.

Once upon a time, he attended a football game. He went on an awkward date with Jennifer "JJ" Jareau. Yes, it was awkward, but JJ was still kind to him. He need not be embarrassed.

And, upon _another _time, he had a near-fling with a moderately famous actress. Lila had flirted with him so many times while he had been assigned to protect her... How could he _help_ but to return the kiss she had bestowed upon him?

Honestly, he was _certain _something could have happened, something more. Something could have _become_ of Lila and him.

But he was an FBI agent, constantly sent from city-to-city, state-to-state. And Lila was an actress on a silly little nighttime soap opera in Los Angeles.

The logistics were simply too complicated.

So, sometimes, Spencer let off some steam with his superior Aaron Hotchner. This was certainly forbidden, but neither of them seemed to mind. Hotch was an expert at hiding his true feelings about anything, and so was Spencer. So, they were quite a good match.

And, truth be told, Spencer knew he _could _have relieved his primal urges with Jason Gideon, too. But Spencer saw Gideon as a father... Anything else was really not an option.

* * *

_Should I tell Gideon what's going on?_

_Ugh. _

_What's the point?_

_I already tried, anyway._

"_I'm struggling," I told him._

_And he gave me some generic pep talk about what we profilers have to endure. _

_He had forgotten, of course, that I was the only profiler who had endured forced injections of drugs. _

_And not just_ any _drug, mind you._

Dilaudid.

_A notoriously addictive drug._

_Just like heroin, but slightly more medical, slightly more high-class._

_Although, I didn't _feel _very high-class._

_I felt like a junkie._

_Lying to my doctor, to get more dilaudid._

_Seeking out FBI connections, all to get a fix._

_What the hell was wrong with me?_

* * *

Drug addicts often talk about a "love affair with the needle."

Spencer had always thought this was interesting, but he had never before understood it.

But, now, things were different.

Now, Spencer spent an absurd amount of time rolling the vials of dilaudid back and forth in his palms.

Now, when Spencer tied a tourniquet around his arm, when he found a vein, when he stuck the needle in and drew back, when he saw the blood which let him know he had found the perfect vein... He understood the "love affair with the needle" all too well.

The oblivion...

And, afterwards... Wiping up the trickle of blood with a tissue...

Nobody had any idea; nobody would _ever _suspect that innocent and naive genius Dr. Spencer Reid was shooting himself up with narcotics.

Not even when, full of desperate fear, he tried to drop hints to Gideon.

No. Spencer was all alone with this.

Sure, maybe Ethan had picked up on _something, _being a jazz musician in New Orleans, as he had boasted. Spencer and Ethan had drunk brandy together, and Ethan had noticed Spencer's trembling hands, his sweaty and extra-pale skin.

Ethan could tell when someone was "not well."

Of course, that was putting it mildly, in Spencer's case.

Ethan didn't know that Spencer spent _most _of his days shaking and sweating, because he didn't _dare _inject himself with dilaudid as often as he _really_ needed it.

Luckily, Spencer was strong enough to resist as long as he possibly could. Otherwise, he'd certainly have lost his job.

And, then, what would he have?

* * *

_It really is becoming more difficult not to give in when I am amongst the others. _

_I find myself making excuses to escape to the bathroom, just so I can gaze longingly at the little vial of dilaudid that I always carry in my satchel. _

_Surely, somebody is going to find out. _

_In fact, I suspect Hotch _already _knows._

_I recently heard him bemoaning the fact that eventually somebody would find out that he's been overlooking the fact that one of his agents has "a serious drug problem."_

_Yes, I am sure that they all know._

_I really don't fucking care, at this point._

_Yes, you heard that right._

_I, pure little Spencer Reid, Ph.D, doesn't _fucking _care. _

_There are precious few things I care about, at this point. _

_I care about the blood pulling back into the needle. I care about the bitter red droplet, trickling down my arm. _

_And, most of all, I care about the pain shooting up my arm, followed by the sweet immobility, the head rush, the near-paralysis. _

_Because then, and _only _then, I can Forget._

_* * * _

Spencer Reid no longer recognized himself when he looked in the mirror.


End file.
